


The Luxury of Lace

by marguerite_26



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colin abstained from <i>certain things</i> when filming, but there were times after a long day that he needed to indulge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Luxury of Lace

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [(be adored)](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/34861.html#cutid1) by [](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/profile)[**novemberlite**](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/) **NWS!!** and various other prompts along the way. This was written for [ Kinkspiration Round 2: Crossdressing.](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/34720.html)
> 
> Thank you to [](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/profile)[**novemberlite**](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/) and [](http://nympha-alba.livejournal.com/profile)[**nympha_alba**](http://nympha-alba.livejournal.com/) for the beta. I tweaked a bunch post-beta, all errors are mine.
> 
> Originally posted Nov 01, 2012

Colin didn’t usually indulge when he was filming, especially not in _France_ where the hotel felt claustrophobic -- Bradley next door, and Katie and Angel down the hall. Not to mention, when they were filming series one, Bradley had figured out that if you wrapped your own cardkey in cling film, it distorted the strip enough you could get into just about any room.

So, Colin abstained from _certain things_ , even if his suitcase was always packed for any occasion.

But today’s filming had been exhausting, the scenes emotionally draining to run through. And two hours into filming the scene of him sobbing alone in the rain, they’d discovered the lighting was off and the shots were unusable. Colin had just smiled and begun again, trying to find that spot inside himself that made every line delivery fresh and inspired no matter how bone-tired he felt.

On the ride back to the hotel, Colin had shrugged off the offers to grab a pint with the others, and ducked into the lift with a smiled apology at Bradley’s pout.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and coke from the mini bar -- another luxury he avoided while filming -- and double checked that the door was locked.

He kept them in a small box in the bottom of his luggage, carefully wrapped in tissue paper with a thick ribbon holding the box closed. If he were to get searched by customs (or hit by a bus and his mum or Neil had to go through his stuff) it would be presumed to be a gift for a girlfriend or mystery lover. Regardless of how unlikely the bus thing was, Colin felt better knowing his death wouldn’t end with the revelation of something he’d guarded so carefully. He was a bit morbid like that.

The whiskey started to warm his chest and loosen his limbs. His inhibitions were lowered just enough to place the box on the center of his bed.

Hands trembling, he poured himself another drink.

The ribbon gave with a sharp tug.

Colin pressed his palm to his crotch, squeezing his eyes shut; some nights just the thought of getting this far was enough to get him off.

He scrambled out of his jeans and tee, standing with his cock heavy at his thigh and felt flushed despite the chill of the room. He slid the lid off, and pushed back the layers of pink tissue paper before the lace finally grazed his knuckles. He moaned, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he lifted the first item: black lace knickers.

They weren’t knickers made for men who liked women’s knickers. They were just _women’s knickers_ \-- not at all equipped to hold in the thickness of a cock. Just how he liked it.

He bent and stepped into them, graceless in his haste.

The lace pulled at his leg hair, a deliciously familiar tug before he finally got the too-small knickers up over his arse. He rearranged himself the best he could, his cock pinned tight and pointing off to his left hip bone. The waistband caught on the tip and his balls itched at the lace, bulging out to the one side.

He waited to look in the mirror until he was done.

Still in the box was garter; that snapped easily around his waist. The straps dangled, framing the outline of his bulge perfectly. His breathing was shallow as he began working the stockings up his legs.

He’d once waxed, just to feel the silk on his bare skin. It had been worth it, but impractical. Even though he’d had the ready excuse of ‘for swimming’ (which everyone seemed to accept without asking for details), he’d still been terrified for weeks that someone would know exactly why his legs were covered in prickly stubble.

He snapped the last strap of the garter and stood in the silent hotel room, finishing his drink and not looking down. When the anticipation simmering beneath his skin made his knees weak, he climbed onto the bed.

It was a bit of a running joke whenever they were in Pierrefonds. In each room, the hotel’s dresser and massive mirror were lined up with the foot of the bed. Which made it convenient for those that liked that sort of thing. The first time in filming in France, he and Bradley both young and horny and a little drunk, had enjoyed couple tumbles. Colin had definitely appreciated the mirror, and the perfect memory it had given of how Bradley James looked sucking with that gorgeous mouth stretched wide around Colin’s cock.

Colin ignored the twist of longing in his belly at the memory. Messing around with Bradley had been unnerving; it had made his skin feel too tight, like if Bradley kept sucking Colin’s brain through his cock, one day he’d just _see_ Colin, see all his secrets. And Colin had called it off before they’d even left France.

It was amazing their friendship had survived, but Bradley wasn’t the sort to hold a grudge and it really had only been a handful of times.

But tonight wasn’t about ‘could’ves’ with Bradley. It was about Colin, and _escapism_ the only way Colin knew how. Something he always did alone.

He knelt, legs spread, on the bed.

The dresser was a nine drawer faux-antique, and the mirror atop it was large, easily reflecting the entire hotel room, but he focused only on himself. His knees first, were the fishnet stockings were pulled taut. Then to his thigh and the tiny rip that had occurred during OPL’s run, but Colin hadn’t had the time (or the nerve) to buy a new pair. His cock he ignored. There would be time for that later.

Instead, he reached back and pulled the remaining two items out of of the box. He put on the simple red silk choke collar that fastened tight enough to make Colin’s eyes flutter shut as his Adam’s apple bobbed beneath it. He hesitated with the final piece; aflimsy bra that didn’t quite fit properly around his chest without leaving marks (that might just be around for costume to see tomorrow).

After a moment’s hesitation he picked it up and hooked the bra together. He looped it loosely a few times around his left wrist, then behind his back, he squeezed his second hand in so he was bound -- tight enough to give the feel of being trapped, loose enough to not leave marks and with a bit a struggling something he would be able to get out of without much difficulty.

He took a deep breath, finally ready.

He stared at himself in the mirror. His lips were red; he must have been gnawing at them while he’d prepared. His mouth and the red band at his neck stood out, a splash of colour on pale, pale skin and black hair and black lace. A blush covered his neck, his upper chest. His nipples were pert and small and he had less ribs showing than the last time he’d done this. His chest had thickened, a bit more muscled. He squared his shoulders and grinned at the contrast of the broadness of his shoulders with the dainty lace of the garter around his waist.

The waistband of the knickers were sticky with precome, stretched out were Colin’s cock had escaped. Colin rolled his hips and the elastic dragged along the sensitive head and he shivered. He’d come untouched tonight. It wouldn’t be long. He spread his legs further and felt the stretch of the garters, like were ready to snap. He rocked again, twisting his wrist in the loose binding of the bra and shut his eyes, started to drift.

He was lightening already, losing that control he held with a clenched fist so the first knock didn’t register. The second one was louder. Colin’s eyes snapped open.

He scrambled with his wrists but what would be easy at any given moment, was never easy in a moment of panic. And by the time he heard Bradley’s “Colin?” he was so far beyond the word panic that he wasn’t even sure there was a word to describe the complete lack of functionality going through his brain and his body.

He inhaled deeply and stared at the locked door. Any sane person would believe he was asleep and just go away. But sanity never came into play when Bradley was around, and Colin heard the slide of a keycard and the snick of the lock releasing through the haze of his life crumbing around him.

“I heard what happened today and brought food,” Bradley said as he pushed the door open, his head bent tucking his cling film wrapped card into his pocket with one hand, while the other held out a Styrofoam container. The room immediately filled with the scent of curry and chips. “Your light’s still on so -- oh my god.”

Bradley stared, mouth open. The door slammed shut behind him. Neither of them said anything and Colin had a flicker of hope that this wasn’t really happening. He was sleeping and this was a nightmare. He was too careful. Always. There was no way this could ever happen.

But Bradley didn’t disappear, he just kept _staring_ with a ridiculous look in his too-wide eyes and his cheeks blooming red.

“Could you please leave,” Colin said at last, voice shaky. He struggled a bit more with the bra, but it seemed to have tangled itself into a proper knot and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to it. God. “Just... go.”

Bradley shook his head as if to clear it. He slowly walked over to the dresser and placed down the take away as if it took all his concentration to perform that task. His eyes met Colin’s in the mirror. “No.”

Colin blinked, letting the word filter through his brain. He fought with his tied hands, frantic again, knowing that Bradley’s eyes were on him, soaking in every humiliating detail of his outfit.

 

“Look, Colin, I --” His voice was quiet, placating.

Colin’s chest burned hot with outrage; he’d rather be mocked than pitied. “Christ, James,” he snapped. “You cannot make this better.”

Bradley spun to face him, his brow furrowed. “What, you think this is the end of the world?” His tone was angry, insulted, but that was good -- it felt less condescending that way. “You think that … What? That I’m going to tell... that I’m going to think...”

Colin hung his head, couldn’t meet Bradley eyes. Because yes, of course Bradley was going to judge. How could he not. Maybe he’d never _tell_ but the fact that Bradley knew was enough to send Colin spiralling into a panic attack. He felt it on the edge of his consciousness, the shortness of breath, the tightening in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and just prayed for the sound of the door to opening and shutting again so he could deal with this on his own. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid, so reckless.

“Hey, calm down, okay?” Bradley was suddenly by the bed, his hand a warm heavy weight on Colin’s bare shoulder. “Look at me.”

Colin inhaled, raggedly and dragged his eyes up to meet Bradley’s, blinking to chase away the sting in his eyes. His sinuses still ached from all the crying he’d done during filming and the last thing he needed right now was look even more pathetic. The bed dipped as Bradley moved forward, kneeling in front of Colin. Bradley’s face lit up, his eyes dancing with emotion, with something Colin felt he had no right to name. It stole Colin’s breath.

“The way you look, Col.” Bradley’s voice was a low rumble that awakened memories in Colin, time when Bradley would grab Colin’s hand and press it to his crotch and say _what you do to me, Cols._

Colin shakes his head, stripped too raw right now to be teased. “Don’t.”

Bradley looked crestfallen at that. “Really? Again? You just …” He sighed, but didn’t get off the bed. “I get that you don’t want me, Colin. Okay. You made that clear.”

Colin pressed his lips together, his cheek flaming with shame that Bradley had thought that back then, that he still thought it now.

“But this... “ Bradley ran a finger over the choke collar and Colin swallowed, feeling the pressure against his Adam’s apple. “This doesn’t have to be a thing between us. Something ugly. And if I walk out now... God, Colin - I feel like you are never going to look me in the eye again and i just can’t live like that.”

Colin barked a laugh. It came out wet and self-deprecating, because Bradley saw right through him. Better than anyone, Bradley could tell what Colin was thinking -- except when it came to his feelings for Bradley, of course. But Colin forgot how Bradley’s own insecurities always factored in there.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Bradley whispered and Colin - God help him - let himself listen. “You have no idea. No fucking idea, Colin, how gorgeous you look.” He grazed his knuckles along Colin’s cheek, brushing the stubble at Colin’s jaw until his thumb pressed down on Colin’s bottom lip. “I’ve missed you, Cols.”

The words were barely more than a breath, but Colin heard and shivered at the _want_ in Bradley’s voice.

“Can we try again?” Bradley kissed the question into Colin’s shoulder.

Colin moaned, his skin flushing hot as Bradley gripped his hips and he felt the strong fingers tracing the lace of Colin’s garter. “I can’t.”

“Let yourself.” Bradley’s teeth grazed his choke collar, his tongue wetting the fabric. “Let me. Come on, Col. We were good together.”

Colin could feel the soft tickle of Bradley's chest hair brush his nipples. He knew Bradley was holding back, keeping some space between them until Colin agreed, his hands remaining still at Colin’s hips, waiting.

Bradley reached down and Colin watched in the mirror as he squeezed his cock through his jeans. For some reason, that, more than anything made Colin give in. Bradley was hard and aching for him like this - tussled up in the outfit that was Colin’s deepest secret. It made the fear that had spun itself up Colin’s spine, twisting and gnarling inside him, begin to fade.

“We were good together,” Colin agreed, realising it was true. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Bradley’s.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t -- I don’t do this every night.”

“Colin,” Bradley breathed, mouthing his way down Colin’s chest, capturing a nipple and sucking.

Colin squirmed and hissed at the sharp pain of his teeth scraping the tight peak. Bradley’s grip on hips was the only thing keeping him from tumbling over as Bradley sunk lower, licking his way down Colin’s abs, following the line of hair until his tongue met the lace of Colin’s knickers. He paused. For a moment Colin thought Bradley was snapping out of it, realising Colin was a pervert and stopped, ready to bolt. But Bradley didn’t leave the bed. Instead he settled on his elbows, ass in the air (a rather lovely view) and nuzzled Colin through the lace.

“Fucking hell, Bradley.” Colin wished his hands were free, needing to bury his fingers in Bradley’s hair. God, he’d missed this.

When Bradley placed an open mouthed kiss on Colin’s cock, sucking the head through the rough stretch of lace, Colin’s hips jerked. His erection that had waned in his humiliation earlier was throbbing now, pressing eagerly against his knickers, desperate for the wet heat of Bradley’s mouth.

“Please.” He rolled his hips, urging Bradley on.

But Bradley didn’t push down the knickers and swallow his cock. Instead, he kitten licked up and down the lace-covered bulge, mouthing the best he could through the spit-soaked material. His tongue had to be raw. He’d probably be still tender tomorrow as he spoke his lines, looking Colin in the eye as they blocked out scenes. Maybe Bradley would wonder what Colin was wearing under his Merlin garb, maybe he’d imagine something frilly, pretty and pink. He watched Bradley in the mirror, fingers running over Colin’s stockings, lapping at the tip of Colin’s cock through the lace like he couldn’t get enough. _Christ_ , Bradley would be thinking that tomorrow, would be getting fucking hard at the thought.

He shut his eyes and just _felt_ : the pinch of the elastic at his wrists, the stretch of the garter, the delicious feel of lace and silk and Bradley James’ brilliant tongue. Colin whined, his balls stirring, drawing in as his orgasm built. It tore through him, tingling his spine, his tightly bound wrists, through is entire body. He cried out; the collar restricted his air as he gasped.

Helpless, he collapsed forward. Bradley scrambled to lay him back and untied him. Colin kept his eyes shut, adrenaline still buzzing hot in his veins, only half aware of Bradley trailing his fingers up and down his sides, soothing him down from his high.

Colin shifted and winced. The come had leaked through the lace of his knickers, cooling tacky and uncomfortable. “Ew.”

Bradley sniggered and Colin felt a hand on one of the straps of his garter. “May I?”

Colin nodded and stretched out, rubbed the soreness from his wrists and let himself be taken care of. Bradley carefully unfastened each snap and slid the stocking free, kissing each inch of revealed skin along the way. Then he released the garter itself, and piled each piece neatly back in the box with as much care as Colin himself would’ve given them. Finally, Bradley reached for the knickers, which set them both laughing as the mix of dried come and pubic hair and lace proved a challenge.

“I might have to buy you a new pair,” Bradley said, his voice light but with enough waver to it that Colin heard the uncertainty. Bradley rose and put the curry take-away in the fridge, looking more than a little lost as he came back to the bed and pecked Colin’s cheek with a whispered, “Good night.”

Colin grabbed his arm. “Stay.” He hadn’t been ready four years ago. They’d both had some growing up to do, but maybe now, maybe after this...

Keeping his eyes on Colin’s fingers curled at his wrist, Bradley’s face softened. He smiled, a quiet, pleased look that made Colin’s heart ache for all the times he’d missed seeing it. Then Bradley tugged his arm free and Colin’s stomach knotted, thinking he’d misunderstood Bradley entirely. Relief warmed him as Bradley simply flicked off the lights.

In the moonlight streaming through the curtains, Colin watch Bradley peel off his shirt, and then his jeans. Scooting over, he lifted the covers and Bradley slid in.

“We’ve never done this before.” Bradley laughed, a quirky, nervous sound.

Colin grinned at the irony of commenting on the intimacy of sharing a bed after all the barriers that had crumbled that night. “Do you suppose it’s time?”

Bradley shuffled closer, draping a warm arm over Colin’s chest. “Long past.” He buried his face in Colin’s neck, kissing the collar Colin had forgotten was still on.

**Author's Note:**

> [Original livejournal post](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/611659.html)


End file.
